FitnessFixation.com

Post-record, try-not-to-barf, still-listening-to-iPod face.
This morning I brought a CD I made to class, and played it during what was basically the kind of soul-destroying workout I save for special Tuesdays. The mix was almost all 80’s and early 90’s music, ranging from the truly classic (Talking Heads, the Smiths) to the unashamedly pop-queer-disco (Erasure) to stuff I have no objectivity about because once when I was young I loved it so (yeah, Duran Duran, fuck off haters.) Anyhow, one of the classes is made up of people from roughly my musical generation–in other words, they don’t think of this as oldies. I saw people mouthing the lyrics as they poured sweat, and every other song caused someone to grin and say, “I saw them live.” And that, my friends, is music over matter, the power of a good song or a nostalgic song to make you forget you are hurting and that you absolutely hate jumping rope.

In my adolescence I loved music passionately, because that’s what teenagers do, along with rolling their eyes and mocking their parents and masturbating and hating themselves and driving recklessly. It’s part of the teen package. I remember thinking I’d outgrow it, but so far, the only difference in how I feel about music is that I’m not ashamed to admit it when I like a song or band that is corny or kind of bad but catchy. (Actually, in the above list, I guess I’ve only outgrown driving recklessly. And I don’t mock my mom, cuz she said “porno.”) The 80’s was for the class, but I mostly troll for new bands and albums and fall in love and listen to the same album incessantly until I get tired of it and if I had a binder, maybe I’d still write “I heart Arcade Fire” on it. (Oh, and nowadays I could also give a shit if something is overhyped, like the Strokes, or Arcade Fire, or Lily Allen, because my love is not swayed by PR and selling out. Save your indie cred for the kids, because if I like your record, you get my affection anyway.)

Now songs I like give me the best workouts ever. When I have a transcendent run, it probably started with something on my iPod. Nowadays the music-exercise combo is the closest I come to washing down a handful or two of fun pills with JD. (Okay, now that is something I have given up since adolescence.) Sometimes I pause when I think about all this meaningful music going towards my fitness–um, did Chuck D really intend me to use “Fight the Power” to get an extra couple squat reps? But oh well, cuz that’s the beauty of music. You can do whatever the fuck you want with it.

I blah blah-ed about my rowing record before, but I forgot to mention the music part of it. Maya told me to find a song on my iPod that got me all juiced (mmm hmm) and use that. The 1000m is good for this because it lasts about as long as a song (maybe a Ramones song if you are a competitive rower.) So while I was running, I listened to crap on my iPod and then I heard a song that I first thought was super corny, but sort of loved anyway. A slowish, cold, melancholy kind of song, not the kind of song you’d ordinarily think would inspire “oh yeah, I’m a rowing badass.” But I can’t think that way and work out anyway (my exercise mind goes, “fuck, fuck, zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, fuck, fuck you motherfuckers, zzzzzzzzzzzzz, 20 more reps, zzzzzzzzzzzzz.”) When I made my first record attempt I listened to that song, and I got a good time. Then I started to doubt everything, and I figured I ought to go with Prince for my next try. I still contend that if you can listen to Prince without moving some part of your body, you should just put on your nicest outfit and lay down in the coffin now, because you are dead inside. But for whatever reason, Prince couldn’t take me there, and I screwed that attempt.

So for the last try I went back to the mournful song and it fucking worked. I think part of what freaked me about using it was that I started to get why this song was helping, because it was somehow calling up all the really sad stuff about having relationship woes and hurting someone repeatedly while they do the same in return, even though no one wants to be doing it. And so that made for rowing fuel, though I’m not entirely sure what the chemical process is, but there’s something about feeling at least momentary despair that is kind of good for records, frankly. I doubt I could just think hopeless thoughts and get all athletic-y, but a good song does that, it makes you feel something familiar without killing you with it. So I recommend: get in a bad fight; get an iPod with something real dire on it; and go for the gold.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, August 28th, 2007 at 10:09 pm and is filed under blah blah, exercise, feelings, first person, running. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.